


won’t be satisfied

by saiditallbefore



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Blackmailed / Coerced Into Sex, F/F, Fisting, Object Insertion, Victim and Rapist Both Believe No One Would Believe The Victim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/pseuds/saiditallbefore
Summary: Dottie slips into Angie’s room one night with a plan.





	won’t be satisfied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misswriterly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misswriterly/gifts).



> Title was borrowed from Ella Fitzgerald’s "You Won't Be Satisfied (Until You Break My Heart)”, because I like the phrase, although the actual song has nothing to do with this fic.

Angie’s having the best dream. It involves Rita Hayworth, a couple of bottles of schnapps, and a distinct lack of clothes.

Only— that’s someone really touching her. She opens her eyes and starts to scream— that dancer from down the hall, Dottie, is straddling her. Dottie slams her hand over Angie’s mouth.

“Quiet, sweetheart,” she says. “What would Mrs. Fry think about me being in your room like this?”

And— Angie’s blue cotton nightdress is rucked up past her waist, and she’s not even sure how Dottie got in here, but Mrs. Fry would never allow her to keep living here if she found out that _this_ had happened.

So Angie nods, very slightly, and Dottie removes her hand.

“Get out,” Angie says. “Please.” She can feel tears welling up in her eyes.

Dottie laughs— a sound that Angie would have found pretty in other circumstances. Then she strokes Angie’s cheek with a single finger. “But where would be the fun in that?”

Angie looks at Dottie, wide-eyed, and swallows. What happened to that innocent little thing Dottie had been in front of everyone this morning?

Dottie grins, a savage-looking expression. Then she pulls Angie’s dress up over her head and tosses it on the floor, wrenching Angie’s arms in the process. 

Now naked except for her underwear, Angie tries to roll away from underneath Dottie. She pushes her legs up and tries to get Dottie off-balance enough that Angie can move away, but Dottie is much stronger than she looks. She slams Angie back down onto the bed and presses a kiss to her neck.

“Where were you going to go, sweetheart?” Dottie murmurs against Angie’s pulsepoint. “Surely you weren't going to go running around _naked_!”

Angie flushes hot, all over her body, and knows she's blushing from the embarrassment. She would have come up with something, if only she had gotten away from Dottie…

Or maybe she would've gotten caught and there would've been an awful scandal and she would've had to leave The Griffith.

Angie’s thoughts are jolted back to the present by the feeling of Dottie’s hands on her body. Dottie’s fingers brush along her sides and down her ribs lightly, before running back to her breasts. Angie gasps as Dottie suddenly pinches her nipple, twisting it sharply, and, to Angie’s shame, causing a swell of arousal. Until now, Dottie has been treating her gently, like a lover, no matter how little Angie wishes to be here.

Dottie continues to play with Angie’s nipples: sometimes stroking them gently, sometimes pinching or pulling on them roughly until tears form in Angie’s eyes. 

Once or twice, Angie almost cries out from the pain— or from something else. But she stops herself, clapping her hand over her mouth before Dottie can chastise her again for making noise.

“You're doing so well,” Dottie croons, as she digs her fingernails into Angie’s right breast. “You haven't even cried yet.”

Angie swallows her tears and promises herself that she won't cry, not if it's what Dottie wants.

Dottie runs her hands down Angie’s stomach again, just barely touching her until she reaches Angie’s ruffled underwear— one of her few luxuries. Then she pauses, looks up at Angie with a feral grin, and pulls Angie’s underwear down until it's tangled around her knees. 

Dottie pulls Angie’s legs apart and presses a kiss to Angie’s inner thigh, just below the place where her leg joins her body. Angie shivers at the sensation, and hates herself for it.

Without warning, Dottie plunges two fingers into Angie’s cunt. It's too much all at once— it's overwhelming and too full and it _hurts_ but Dottie is absolutely relentless. As Dottie’s long, thin fingers slide in and out of Angie’s cunt, touching every sensitive spot on the inside, Angie feels herself grow wetter. Tears prick at her eyes again— she hates this, hates that she's powerless like this, hates Dottie most of all. But there's nothing she can do and nowhere she can run.

Dottie stops, and steps away from Angie for a moment. But Angie is so breathless and out of sorts that she doesn’t even think about getting away until Dottie has already come back, this time carrying Angie’s hairbrush.

“This isn’t as nice as mine,” Dottie says cheerfully. “But I think I can make it work!”

Before Angie asks what, exactly, Dottie is going to make work, Dottie plunges the handle of the hairbrush into Angie’s cunt. She does it too hard and too fast and Angie cries out in pain, certain the hairbrush is tearing her up inside. But Dottie ignores her, and continues to fuck her with the hairbrush with a steady rhythm.

And then Dottie pinches Angie’s clit until it aches, until Angie is breathless and panting. Dottie lets go and flicks at Angie’s clit a few times, watching Angie shudder with that same faraway smile. 

Before Angie has a chance to catch her breath from that, Dottie has set the hairbrush aside and is once again thrusting her fingers inside Angie’s cunt— three fingers now, slower than she fucked Angie before, but no less relentless. But it’s less than the hairbrush handle, and while Angie’s cunt aches for more, she’s glad that Dottie seems to finally be letting up.

Dottie pauses for a moment, and then— and then her whole hand, all four fingers with her thumb bent underneath, is sliding into Angie’s cunt. It's too much— she's entirely filled up. But then Dottie clenches her hand into a fist— while it's still _inside_ Angie!— and Angie groans at the sensation as Dottie’s hands rubs against the inner folds of her cunt. 

“This is exactly what you want, isn’t it?” Dottie asks, sounding as cool as ever. “I knew you would.”

Angie wants to protest, but Dottie rotates her fist just slightly and the only sound she can make is a groan.

Dottie thrusts her fist further and further into Angie, until Angie is left wondering how far it can go. Then she pulls it back, until her fist strains against the entrance to Angie’s cunt. And it hurts, more than anything Angie has ever known, and she hates Dottie for doing this, for humiliating her like this, but that doesn't stop the arousal from continuing to build. 

Her climax finally comes, crashing over her in waves. For a few, blessed moments, Angie’s vision goes black and she can’t see Dottie anymore— only the stars that appear behind her eyelids, and she can pretend that it wasn’t Dottie who brought her to this point. But when she opens her eyes, Dottie is still there, and Angie is filled with dread, wondering what she’s going to do next.

But Dottie just hops off of Angie’s bed, leans forward, and pats Angie on the head.

“Good girl,” she says. “Next time, we’re going to have even more fun.”

When Dottie is out of the room, the door safely latched behind her, Angie buries her face in her pillow and sobs.


End file.
